


No Unreasonable Offer Refused

by deedeeinfj



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 14:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13614843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeeinfj/pseuds/deedeeinfj
Summary: Continuation of Fire_Sign's "With a Deeper Instinct."





	No Unreasonable Offer Refused

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [With a Deeper Instinct](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13612209) by [Fire_Sign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/pseuds/Fire_Sign). 



> This is Fire_Sign's fault. Most things are.
> 
> Part of this is also Agatha Christie's fault.
> 
> Two stories in one week. What am I doing???

Jack locked the door of his guest room for the night – rethought (“ _But, Jack, if I lock my door, nobody could get in…_ ”) and rethought again (she knew how to pick locks) – and immediately began the process of freeing himself from his suit jacket and tie. There was a brief moment of disappointment that she wasn’t there already, poised to pounce on him like an elegant jungle cat, but his eyes immediately spotted the piece of paper on his pillow. Smiling as he draped his jacket over a chair, he went to the bed and took up the note.

_Tommy, I can’t join you tonight, but I wanted to assure you that I found your room. –Tuppence_

_* * *_

“Phryne, dear! I wasn’t expecting you for breakfast.”

With steadfast self-control, Phryne kept her eyes on Athena instead of the man who looked up suddenly from his eggs and toast at her arrival. She laughed gaily. “You know me too well, darling, but I was promised that breakfast would be especially delicious this morning.” She allowed her eyes to flick over the table, landing on Jack. “What better way to greet the day than to put something warm and tasty in my mouth?”

“Well, then, I – oh, heavens, Mr. Stockwell, are you quite all right? Shall I call a doctor?”

Phryne walked over to Jack, who had begun coughing into his napkin, and patted him on the back. “He’s fine, Athena,” said Phryne, smoothly sliding into the seat next to him.

“Just a bit of toast in the wrong pipe,” Jack said. “Good morning, Miss Fisher.”

“Mr. Stockwell,” she nodded.

As her plate was served, she reached over and rested her hand on his thigh beneath the tablecloth. The touch wasn’t teasing; she needed to connect with him in some small way after missing him for so long. His hand covered hers and squeezed, and she turned hers palm-up to interlace their fingers.

“What a lovely dress, Miss Fisher,” said Elaine Thompson-Knight. “An Australian designer?”

Phryne smiled across the table at the woman whose room she had broken into the night before. “House of Fleuri.”

“I am unfamiliar, but such graceful lines.”

“Thank you,” Phryne said.

As the other guests gradually began conversing with each other, Jack leaned slightly towards her. “Any luck?”

“I spent the night alone, as did you, so no.” She glanced from the corner of her eye to watch his mouth curl up.

He took a sip of his coffee. “With the _case_.”

“The photographs are in Elaine’s room, and I found a letter in Arnold’s room that you’ll want to see.”

“Where is it?”

Phryne turned her head fully to him and gave him a beatific smile, both satisfied and charmed by the pink rising in his cheeks. “Come to my room,” she murmured.

* * *

A few minutes after Phryne excused herself from the table “to write some letters,” Jack thanked Athena for the fine breakfast and announced that he had business to attend to. He made his way to Phryne’s room, checked up and down the hall, and tapped with one knuckle. In the blink of an eye, he was yanked inside and pushed up against the closed door.

“Jack,” she gasped, barely letting her mouth part from his as she attacked his clothing. “I want you… so many ways…”

He couldn’t help laughing into her kiss, filled as he was with a heady cocktail of desire, amusement, and joy. “What about the case?” he asked, hands on her waist.

“I’ve been bogged down in business for months. I’m here for _pleasure_ , Mr. Stockwell. Are you going to help me with that, or should I ask Commissioner Arn—mmmph.”

All the times he could have silenced that beautiful, infuriating mouth with his own, he thought as he spun them around and captured her wandering hands, holding them down at her sides.

“I’m a businessman, as you know, Miss Fisher.”

“Ah, yes, the Adelaide Stockwells, was it?”

He pinned her hips to the door with his, letting her feel how much he wanted her, and her breathless sound of pleasure made his head light.

“When I get what I want, you get what you want,” he said.

Her small chin tilted up in defiance. “I’ll need my hands.”

“You certainly will, Miss Fisher.” He freed her and took a step back, grateful for the chance to catch his breath.

* * *

Phryne took a moment to regain her bearings; the force and openness of Jack’s desire had lit her up inside like dry kindling. Then, smiling, she began gathering up her skirt, her eyes on his face as he watched the slow reveal of her calf and thigh. The folded paper was there in her garter, right beside her knife.

“Is that what you want, Mr. Stockwell?”

She watched him swallow and blink before he stepped back into character – and back against her. He pulled her thigh up around his hip, stroked the bare skin above her stocking with one finger, and slid the letter from her garter.

“What does it say?” he asked, his voice like gravel.

“Isn’t it my turn to get something I want?” she challenged.

His reply was one of those head tilts that made her want to bite and lick his jaw. And, since she could, that’s exactly what she did. His groan vibrated under her lips, and she tightened her leg around him. She kissed her way to his earlobe and curled her tongue around it to draw it between her lips.

“Phryne...”

“Jack. Of the Melbourne Robinsons.” She brushed her mouth back and forth over his lips before kissing the top one. “Arnold is complicit,” she said. “You can read it yourself, or you can take my word for it and let me have you now.”

Tucking the letter into his suit pocket, Jack smiled. “No unreasonable offer refused.”


End file.
